


The Beginning

by curlyfriesandfrosties



Series: Bittersweet Endings, Strange New Beginnings [2]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Gen, Post-Canon, Spoilers for Book 3: A Court of Wings and Ruin, Spoilers for Book 7: Kingdom of Ash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:02:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29907033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curlyfriesandfrosties/pseuds/curlyfriesandfrosties
Summary: It’s only a second before she senses them. Like Fenrys could step between pockets of the world, they come in swirling darkness – the handsome male she had seen on that mountaintop and the female, no longer pregnant. Before Aelin even turns to look, she recognizes him by the familiar feeling of his magic: a night dark wind to slow her fall. Now, all that power is poised to strike, an echo of the same power projected from the female beside him.Aelin Ashryver-Whitethorn-Galathynius, now 800 years old, crosses into a new world to catch up with some old acquaintances.
Relationships: Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien/Rowan Whitethorn, Feyre Archeron/Rhysand
Series: Bittersweet Endings, Strange New Beginnings [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2114961
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this before ACoSF came out so there are no spoilers in this first chapter.

_The portal glows, as green and eerie as such things were eight hundred years ago. And through it, Aelin smells the familiar scent of that nearby world._

_Her last glimpse of her own world is one of her daughter, eyes wide with fear and amazement, gazing at the glowing passage._

_Aelin takes Rowan’s hand and they step through. She takes in the smell of snow, pines, and open air. They’re standing on that barren mountain where she saw those Fae. The portal fades and they are enveloped in that snow-blasted wilderness. Aelin smiles a little. She has had many titles: assassin, champion, princess, Heir-of-Fire, promised-one, Faerie Queen of the West, demon-killer, Queen Mother. Now_ world-walker _. It suits her better than any crown._

* * *

She and Rowan had a plan. They were going to hike down the mountain after landing in this spot. They’d explore, hopefully stumbling upon some civilization. Ask to be taken to leaders or something like that. But they don’t get the chance.

It’s only a second before she senses them. Like Fenrys could step between pockets of the world, they come in swirling darkness – the handsome male she had seen on that mountaintop and the female, no longer pregnant. Before Aelin even turns to look, she recognizes him by the familiar feeling of his magic: _a night dark wind to slow her fall._ Now, all that power is poised to strike, an echo of the same power projected from the female beside him. 

Aelin’s hair stands on end, and, with her reaction to fight or flee, her fire crackles to life in her veins. The world drops from under her as she feels it – not the mere sparks her power has been for the last 780 years, but a well of power that bears more resemblance to the endless void, the raging chasm it was before her fall. _Interesting_.

Aelin plasters a serene smile on her face and turns. She and Rowan face the newcomers hand in hand – though she supposes they are the newcomers. Suddenly she hears a deep, echoing, roaring voice inside her head: “Who are you?”

She feels claws at her mind, like Maeve’s dark power, and panic washes over her. But they recoil an instant later. The male looks confused; the female, stunned.

His real voice is not so terrifying. Still deep, but smoother and altogether more human. “You … I know you.”

The female’s voice is low and soft, as she says, “You were the falling star. I – We – _He_ heard you. What are you? How are you here?”

She looks to Rowan’s ears. Aelin’s eyes and slim hands.

Rowan answers only one of the questions, “We are Fae.”

“Yes but –”

His mate, for the female must be his mate, interrupts again. “You are not Fae like us. You can’t be because you just popped into existence in the middle of our lands! You need to explain. And quickly.” She has collected herself far more quickly than her counterpart, and she is certainly more angry. Protective females …

“We are Fae and … we have become what you might call world-walkers. We are not from this world and have travelled here for the sake of exploration.” Aelin had these lines prepared, but she now regrets the choice of words, for, out-loud, they sound oddly formal. She sounds like a reeking politician and so amends, “My name is Aelin and this is my mate, Rowan.”

Perhaps she should be wary of revealing personal information. Of making that bond so apparent and so vulnerable. But ... truth for truth. Honesty in exchange for honesty. These are the tools she used for the majority of her reign. And lies and tricks require some pre-existing knowledge. This is the unknown. 

The male, having recovered some dignity, says, “Well … then I suppose we should welcome you.” He runs his hands through his hair, straightens his jacket. Becoming suddenly suave, like a mask falling into place, he reaches out his hand. “Welcome to Prythian. To our world, actually. I am Rhysand – High Lord of this territory. And this is my High Lady and wife, Feyre.”

The two Fae then share a look. Perhaps it is odd, but, in all her years, Aelin had never witnessed mates converse silently as she and Rowan do.

The female, Feyre, speaks next, “I suppose we ought to treat this as a diplomatic meeting. You will answer all of our questions. We will hear your story. That is, if you’ll come with us to our court?” Her words are equal parts threatening and challenging: _you will answer and if you don’t, we’ll kill you_.

Aelin looks to Rowan. They share their own silent conversation, though Aelin cannot help but feel that someone is listening. Nonetheless they agree. Aelin nods.

“Excellent. Can you winnow on your own?” asks the male. Rhysand.

“Winnow?”

“Step between places in the world? Using … magic that is.”

“No. We can’t,” Rowan replies. “But we have both done it before with others.” Again, Aelin feels a pang for Fenrys.

“Then,” says Feyre, “take my arm … please.” The please is cold as ice.

They do so. And Aelin might have thought it was foolish, to accept such an offer and end up gods-know-where. But she is ready for an adventure. With her magic restored to its once great depths, she might even be ready for a fight. And she has a feeling they were in no danger. Not from a male who extended a hand to a stranger – a strange being – after hearing cries from a falling star in the night.

* * *

They emerge from darkness to find themselves in an enormous cavern adorned with a long glass table, great chandelier, and empty chairs. Chairs which do not remain empty for long, as figures begin popping into existence.

“Welcome to the Night Court.”

And the word “night” might’ve frightened her – night being associated with dark, with hunting, or even wickedness – before she realizes that the power which had enveloped her, that radiated from the Lord and Lady and this room is very, very much like Lorcan’s.

Similar magic. Similar worlds. Similar people. It is all she could have hoped for.

Rowan speaks into her mind, on the bond between them, “You wanted an adventure. I think we found a few more cranky old immortals.”

He's right. All around the room sit Fae, all of whom radiate power. Aelin smiles and takes her seat at the now full table.

Feyre levels a look at the people gathered and they fall silent. “This is Aelin. And her mate Rowan. They’ve come to us … from another world.”

And Aelin finds that words have left her. What can she say to these people? She had another speech prepared, but it was written for a much different context. In the end, she settles for, “Hello.” And so they began their tale.

**Author's Note:**

> This is an optional addition to my post-canon conclusion of the Throne of Glass series. 
> 
> I have no idea if I'm going to continue this fic past one chapter. Crossovers tend to get a little cheesy and I'm not one for out-of-character behavior. How do you write high fantasy with realistic characterization while people are traipsing across the multiverse? I have no idea. I'll add an edit to my note if I come up with something. 
> 
> As with all my fics, I don't debate ships so please keep those types of comments to yourself. If I expand this work, it will have to be after I've read ACoSF. Thanks for reading!


End file.
